


Other Side Of Me

by Littlebutterfly



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: (its not graphic i promise), Doctor/Patient, Innocent Louis, Killing, M/M, Mental Asylum, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Mental Institutions, Murder, Patient!Louis, Serial Killers, doctor!harry, murderer!Louis, psychiatric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2019-03-15 08:21:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13609377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Littlebutterfly/pseuds/Littlebutterfly
Summary: "Nineteen Louis William Tomlinson has finally been captured after the brutal murder of fifty-seven year old Dominic Hill, marking this as his fifteenth murder in his three year killing spree, including the murder of his parents, Johanna and Troy.Tomlinson is being taken to Westwood Mental Institution For The Criminally Insane, after being deemed unfit for a regular prison sentence after pleading insanity."The News Report of a cold blooded killer.But Louis was as innocent as they came.





	1. Prologue

> "Nineteen Louis William Tomlinson has finally been captured after the brutal murder of fifty-seven year old Dominic Hill, marking this as his fifteenth murder in his three year killing spree, including the murder of his parents, Johanna and Troy.   
>  Tomlinson is being taken to Westwood Mental Institution For The Criminally Insane, after being deemed unfit for a regular prison sentence after pleading insanity."
> 
>  

Spine-tingling. Hair-raising.  
The front page cover story of all the worlds biggest papers, sending floods of relief throughout people globally.  
The story of a heartless, cold blooded killer.  
The sort of story that brought visions of cold eyes, and unkind hands.   
The sort of image that would represent every aspect of what Louis William Tomlinson  _wasn't._

 

Louis was a sweet boy. Nineteen years old and the picture of innocence.   
Quirky, and maybe a bit strange with the way he would claim he could talk to animals, or that he always had a lollipop stuck between thick pink lips.   
Innocent, adorable, likeable, quirky.   
But a murderer? No.   
Not Louis.

Louis was a good boy.

 

A good boy who had been urged to plead insanity during the court case after his capture, after he was found sobbing next to the body of the richest CEO in London, the mans throat slit and the murder weapon nestled between Louis' small, bloodied, trembling hands.

It's funny, isn't it? How things work. How brains work. How tabloids, and press, and reporters shoot out all sorts of stories that made no sense.... all for a bit of cash, for a bit of publicity. To lure in viewers and to make some cash out of people that were desperately trying to find out more, to discover the answer as to why.  
When not even the boy himself understood why.   
Why he was being blamed. Why everyone he loved died. Why he was being set up, and hurt, and tortured.   
Why he'd wake from his sleep to find bodies of strangers, of loved ones, in front of him.

 

He didn't understand, but a plead to insanity got Louis away from death row, and ended up here.  
Westwood Mental Institution For The Criminally Insane.  
And somehow, this _good boy_ had found himself with hands tied behind his back, tears streaming down blotchy, pink cheeks, and walking beside no less than ten of the best security team in all of England, down the seemingly endless hallway of the highest security insane asylum that the world had to offer, to the only doctor in the world who had the experience and desire to take this seemingly impossible case on.   
  


 


	2. Chapter 2

Harry Styles.   
Famous in his own right for his young age, gentle approach and strong held belief that most disorders emerge from childhood trauma that isn't the fault of the patient themselves.   
The most well known psychiatrist in London, and the only one in Louis' time on the loose that had agreed to see him.   
Unlike every other psychologist, professional and doctor that resided inside of the walls of Westwood, his office was decorated in youthful, colourful aesthetics- believing that the more comforting, youthful and 'homely' the room was, the more likely the patient would be willing to accept treatment.   
Hence, the soft carpet, the plush chairs in soft blues, covered in throw pillows of equally calming colours. The plastic, non-breakable jar of lollies that sat abroad his desk, and the shelves of colouring books and live plants- where most doctors would instead display their certificates, diplomas, and text books.   
But what good would that do? These people knew already that they were in the nut house.

 

Harry had heard of this new patient. Of course he had. He'd spent the past three days researching Louis Tomlinson, retrieving old doctors reports, family history, schooling history.... everything and anything that he could find in the system.   
And this was certainly a case like he'd never seen before.   
A boy who claimed he was innocent, who looked as innocent as any other young boy in the street. But who had been caught in the act of murdering fifteen people.   
Harry was desperate to understand more. Desperate to make sense of it all.  
Bi-Polar Disorder was clear marked off the list of possibilities regarding Louis Tomlinson's disorder. He'd never been known to have depression or anger spells.   
And Harry was certain he wasn't sociopathic. No sociopath would mourn the death of his kill for hours upon end.   
Multiple Personality Disorder certainly seemed possible. But people suffering from that were aware of their 'alters', and just couldn't seem to control them... didn't seem to  _want_ to control them.   
And here Louis was... with no clue at all.

 

_Buzz.  
_ "Harry, we've got patient 47 with us." 

Harry hated that the patients were given numbers. If they were to be rehabilitated back into society, how was dehumanising them by taking their names away and numbering them going to help?  
Although... there wasn't much hope for Louis in the end, anyway.

Harry inhaled a deep breath, pushing his shoulders back and putting his research papers beneath the desk- Louis didn't need to see the evidence against him. He didn't need to see the papers, and the graphic photographs.   
Harry's job was to help him, not accuse him.   
"Come in, mate."

 

A swipe card was heard clicking into the outside slot- protection in the high security ward was understandably extreme.   
And Harry's large office door was swung open, revealing two large guards and the one, the only...  
Louis Tomlinson.

 

A boy who wasn't struggling between the grip of the security, who wasn't so much as giving a shimmy. He wasn't yelling, nor was he screaming.   
He was simply allowing himself to be walked through, silent tears slipping from his cheeks.   
And Harry felt as gutted for the boy, as Louis felt terrified. 

Louis' experience with doctors has been understandably awful. Yelling, accusations, horrible photos of his own graphic murders.   
Not once had someone shown him kindness, and Harry decided then and there that he was going to be the change of that. 

 

The guards left at Harry's request, leaving a cuffed Louis standing timidly in the centre of the room, waiting for his beating.   
But it never came. 

"Why are you crying, honey? Were the guards mean to you?"

Louis looked up at the kind, dark-chocolate voice, daring to let himself speak.   
"They... they hurting."

God.   
Louis sounded every bit a terrified, sensitive, confused little boy.   
And yeah, Harry hadn't expected a cold hearted criminal to step in. But he hadn't expected someone with the voice of a child, and the timidness of a baby deer.   
"They're... hurting? Your cuffs" He tread carefully, knowing well that it could all be an act, "I'm sorry, Louis. I'll be sure to have a word with then. I'm your doctor, and it's my duty to serve and protect you, and to make sure you're cared for. Your health is my priority, love."

The opening sentence. The start of a chapter as to what made Harry such a successful, and critiqued doctor.   
  


"I...it- they hurt." 

Harry nodded, giving the boy a gentle smile before he strode across his office and to the door, knocking twice as Louis watched in silent panic.   
It was protocol to have at least one head security outside of every room when a high intensity session was occurring- though Harry was often given two, due to his less-by-the-book style of doctor'ing.   
Today, the guard that greeted him at the door at attention was James- a brooding dark man who was at least twice the size Harry was.  
"Is there an issue?" 

"It seems that my patient is restrained inside of my office, and I don't have the key to free his hands. I understand this is a special case, but it would be greatly appreciated if you could do the honours..."   
Harry was bat shit crazy.   
But, he got his wish. And moments later, Louis' wrists were free from the cuffs, and the sad, grey eyes that had been watching Harry like a hawk widened in surprise. 

"Much better, are your wrists okay? I hate hand cuffs, much too rough..." Harry's voice was gentle and chipper as he strode back to his desk and sat down.  
"Now, would you like a lollie?" 

 

 


End file.
